


Epilogue

by littlehollyleaf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Drama, Gen, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Pre-Slash, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9242693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehollyleaf/pseuds/littlehollyleaf
Summary: Closing the gates to Hell also means closing the gates to Heaven. Which means Castiel must choose, will he live on Earth or in Heaven? When the final spell to complete the ritual goes off without a hitch, Dean must come to terms with Cas’ decision…





	

**Epilogue**

Since the final moments of the apocalypse that wasn't, his brother falling without fanfare and leaving behind a gaping nothing stretching on and on, deeper and vaster than the pit Sam had dived into, Dean's been prepared for their plans to end in tragic disaster, anti-climax or both. He's been prepared for lose-lose, no matter what, and defeating Raphael only to have Cas go all God Delusion on them, or ganking Dick only to wake up in monsterland, had followed the pattern nicely.

It's a shock, then, when he finishes his part of the incantation and slices the necessary blood from his palm, that the world around him should respond with suitable pomp and awe-inspiring flair with no notable disaster in sight.

The rumble beneath his feet sounds for all the world like a literal gate slamming shut somewhere in the Earth's core. But for all its grandeur, the earth doesn't split, no trees fall or mountains crumple. Dean sways a moment. Then it's over.

Just in time for the curtain of light across the night sky to grab his full attention. Dean's never seen the Northern Lights, but he's pretty sure the sheer size of these colours knocks them out of the park. It's like the world turned into an acid trip, painting the air itself in yellows and reds, purple and blue.

This aftershock fades slowly, leaving Dean blinking and breathless as the world returns to its previous darkness, moonlight glinting off the bonnets of the three lonely cars left in the store parking lot overnight (it's a crime what people build over hallowed ground these days).

An odd, croaking sound escapes Dean lips and it takes him a second to realise it's laughter.

He can't know for sure, of course, what the shaking ground and pyrotechnics really means. But if it's something _other_ than the closing of Heaven and Hell, right after Team Free Will 2.0 (namely him, Sam, Cas and Kevin Tran: Advanced Placement) performed the separate parts of a spell intended to do just that—well, even the most pessimistic corners of Dean's mind have to admit it would be a super crazy coincidence.

***

He runs into Sam just as the kid (damn it, he's really got to stop calling him that) reaches their agreed checkpoint outside Stull Cemetery and they beam at each other in mutual disbelief.

They'd been prepared for anything, they thought.

Anything, except an outright win.

Dean doesn't even question the embrace when they get close enough. They just shut out a good ninety percent of the world's evil. Fuck it if he's not gonna take a moment with his brother to celebrate that.

Sam engulfs him like the bear he is, chuckling hot behind Dean's ear before pulling off and holding Dean at arm's length, hands wide across Dean's shoulders, eyes bright and sparkling. He looks so giddy and _young_ it's almost intoxicating. The pure joy on Sam's face, smoothing out every other line Dean has watched his brother grow tainted with over the years, gives Dean hope that escaping the past might be possible yet.

"Dude!" Sam breathes. "I don't believe it!"

Dean grins back. Hasn't stopped, in fact, since he first caught sight of Sam's lumbering silhouette from across the road.

"I know, right?"

He half slaps, half punches one of Sam's arms. Happy to revel in this closeness, this simple affection, for a moment longer.

Choking with laughter much like Dean's own in the parking lot, Sam shakes his head, bangs falling across his eyes. He glances towards the graveyard, lets out a sobering breath and faces Dean again.

"So, where's Cas?"

And just like that everything reverts to pattern.

Dean's smile drops.

Sam hasn't got it yet. His smile's still warm and in place, although a dark creases passes over the skin between his eyes at the change in Dean.

"He's not with you?" Dean asks. Just in case. _Just in case._

But Sam's expression falls too. A sorrow, something like grief, to match Dean's, which is quickly replace by sucked in lips and a heavy (cloying) _sympathy_ in his eyes. It's not quite pity. But it's as good as. Dean squares his shoulders against it.

"He might not—" Sam starts, but Dean tugs abruptly out of his brother's hold, cutting Sam off. The last thing he needs, either of them need, is false hope. They've got to face facts, here and now, at once. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Can't let the wound fester.

"No," he spits, turning to look through the iron bars of the fence into the conspicuously _empty_ graveyard, and that's the clincher. Stull was Cas' patch. Once his part was done all he had to do was wait. He should have been here first. If he was going to be here at all.

A painful something tries to claw its way up Dean's throat but he swallows it down. It takes a couple of tries.

"No," he says again. Softer. "He made his choice. It's good. It... it was the right one..." When he turns back he knows the theatrical shrug and exaggerated smile aren't fooling anyone, but he's got to deal with this somehow and wisecracks are his speciality. "Who wouldn't choose Heaven if they could?"

Sam doesn't play along, just flattens his lips, still looking so terribly _sorry_.

It's stupid. It's like they're mourning, or like Sam's waiting for Dean to at the very least, and Cas isn't _dead_. Hell, he's the opposite. He's angel-ed up, back home in the newly welcoming arms of his brothers and sisters, helping them build a new and better world together. He's living the good life. They should be _happy_ for him. Dean _is_ happy for him.

Winchester happiness always has been uncannily close to a knife in the gut.

Thankfully Sam doesn't push it. They've come a long way the last couple of years, their trust in each other stronger and deeper than ever, and that includes trusting each other to deal with their shit in their own way. Sam can't help Dean with this and he knows it, just as Dean knows Sam will be there if, or perhaps when, Dean needs him to be.

Before the silence can stagnate it's broken by a rallying cry that sounds suspiciously like 'woo-hoo!' Then an exuberant Kevin is crashing into them, grinning from ear to ear. He wraps his arms first about Sam's chest, head pressed to Sam's shoulder, before bounding over to Dean and wrapping his arms about his neck. The kid's (yes, it really is applicable here) enthusiasm cracks a vestige of a smile back across Dean's lips and he offers an indulgent pat to Kevin's back.

"Yup. Saved the world. Go team," Dean mutters.

"Are we awesome, or what?!" Kevin exclaims, springing back and beaming at the two of them. "And did you see the lights? Aw, man. This is way better than acing fifth grade! I didn't think anything could feel this good!"

Dean's smile fixes in place. Yeah. Good. That's what it feels like.

"You want to celebrate? We should celebrate. I know some student places that open late. I mean, I've never gone, I had studies. And then I had reading the word of god and hunting monsters. But I always thought maybe one day, like, after I finished my PhD, but now seems more appropriate—"

"Uh, Kevin," Sam interrupts, acutely aware of Dean's discomfort. "Dean and I, err, I don't think we're quite at the partying stage of saving the world just yet, you know? More, maybe, the quiet contemplation stage."

Kevin blinks and glances between them. Not upset, just surprised. If there's one thing Dean's learnt about Kevin is that the kid sure can roll with the punches. Once the initial shock of the whole prophet gig had passed and he'd, you know, gotten over abduction by the King of Hell, Kevin had thrown himself into the hunting life with the same focus and dedication Dean figures must have seen him through academia. Okay he's young and occasionally overexcitable, but he's also proven himself invaluable these last few months. In fact, though he'll never say it out loud, Dean's grown kind of fond of the little dweeb.

Which is why he summons up the effort for another grin. Just because life has hit him with its usual last minute 'pulling the rug out from under you' disappointment, it doesn't mean he should deprive Kevin of his post-victory high.

"What can I say? We're old. There's only so much excitement we can take. But hey, you, you go nuts. Get drunk. Find a girl or two. Hell, find a guy. Live it up. You've earned it."

Kevin gives a slow grin and nod back.

"I have. Haven't I?" he says, thoughtful. "Yeah... _Yeah_." He nods again, as though answering himself. "Okay, well I guess I'll see you guys." He lifts a hand in a gesture somewhere between a wave and a salute. "Keep in touch, alright?"

"Sure," Sam smiles. Dean just waves back.

A new warmth settles over them as they watch Kevin scamper away, though, keeping even Dean's lips quirked upwards. The kid's excitement reminds him they really did do some _good_ today.

However shitty Dean might feel about it.

***

They walk to the car in a silence Dean knows Sam's maintaining for his benefit. Giving him time.

If Dean's lucky, most of the dead weight in his chest will have shifted by the time his hands touch the steering wheel. But the way his feet drag across the gravel path through the graveyard tells him this is unlikely. He'll need longer. Much longer.

They pass the crypt where Cas had performed his ritual on the way. There's signs of a struggle outside, branches of an ornamental bush snapped and trampled, leaves scattered across the otherwise pristine marble path. Some of Crowley's goons must have found the place. Dean grins for a moment at the image of the angel fighting them off, soldier instincts kicking in, blade flashing, body moving in quick, controlled darts and feints. It's something, watching Cas fight. He never really got the chance until Purgatory and since then there's been times he's gone out of his way to watch. Because it's beautiful, in its way, Dean thinks. The best kind of dance.

Or it was.

Dean turns away. Moves on. Turning his smile to a scowl. Thinking about that again is off the cards by the feel of it. Unless he always wants this ache in his ribcage soaking into the bone.

He's wondering if he maybe could muster up some hate for the guy for leaving, just for a while, just to make dealing with it a bit easier, when he notices the music. It's faint, but getting louder the further they walk. The stillness of the graveyard makes it sound almost ethereal, like it's a melody drawn from the air itself, a natural salutation of the first subtle glow of dawn washing into the sky. _Colours changing hue, morning field of amber grain. Weathered faces lined in pain. Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand._

They turn a corner and there's Dean's baby, nestled safe beneath the branches of the yew where they'd left her, and it's quickly clear the music originates from the car. But how -?

There's a figure leaning back in the passenger side at the front.

Dean stops, trying to fight the tempest of excitement building inside him. Because he can't get his hopes up. He can't. The subsequent fall back to reality will be too much. He's barely coping as it is.

Thank god Sam's there to pick up the slack. Reaching into his jacket Sam pulls out the shotgun strapped into the lining and nods at Dean to arm himself as well.

Yes. Good. They should be practical about this. Dean can be practical. No thinking required for being practical. He tugs the demon killing knife from his belt and they inch forward together. _They would not listen, they did not know how. Perhaps they'll listen now_.

They're five feet from the driver's side and Dean's ready to nod Sam round to the other door so they can trap whoever, or whatever, it is inside, when Sam lowers his gun. He sighs, small and soft, and when Dean glances at him he finds his brother smiling. He frowns. Just because the figure is clearly a man, with untidy dark hair, stubble, a familiar dark jacket and hand-me-down AC/DC t-shirt, it doesn't mean—it might not be—

But then Sam's beaming, eyes moving from the car to Dean and he's so _happy_ , so _sure_... Dean looks back and examines the man more closely. His head is tipped back against the seat, eyes closed, with an arm resting across the open window. He's not sleeping, though, because his hand on the window frame twitches occasionally in time with the music. Slender, Purgatory-worn fingers Dean knows so well dipping and twirling.

Can't be a left over demon, there's no way a demon could have entered the Impala with all the wards they've set up inside. No leviathans left in Kansas, they made sure of that. Could be a Shifter but it seems unlikely, why would a shifter put itself in the one place the Winchesters were guaranteed to find it? It would be suicide.

Which only leaves...

Dean stuffs his knife away and stalks over, yanking the driver's door open.

Cas blinks calmly up at him. Smiling. _I could have told you, Vincent._  
"The fuck are you doing here, huh?" Dean snaps, suddenly furious. _This world was never meant_. He's been fucking _mourning_ and all the time Cas was here? _For one as beautiful as you._

"I didn't presume to take the driver's seat," Cas answers. "I know how possessive you are about this car."

Sam chuckles behind him but Dean just glares.

"Oh, you mean the rendezvous," Cas nods, unperturbed. "My apologies. There was some trouble." He pats his thigh, which Dean notices for the first time has a bloody gash in it. It's not too deep since the bleeding seems to have stopped, blood crusting over the ripped denim of Cas' jeans, but it's long and nasty looking. "One of the demon hosts survived. I escorted him to the nearest shelter. Returning was..." He flattens his lips, quietly apologetic. "Painful. It was easier to stop here. I thought you'd understand."

It's fair. It's more than fair actually. Being a hero is a legitimate excuse for most things. But Dean's still angry and he realises then that it's not because the Impala isn't where Cas was supposed to be, it's because Cas isn't supposed to be _anywhere_.

"No, I don't mean the rendezvous, I mean why are you _here?_ " He waves his arms, indicating beyond the car. Because the truth is he'd _wanted_ to mourn. He'd _wanted_ the loss. Because he deserved the pain. And because Cas _didn't_. "What happened to rebuilding Heaven, huh?" Because that's where Cas should be, somewhere you don't get sliced up by demons or bleed or hurt. Not on a chunk of earth surrounded by dead people with a busted leg that's agony to walk on.

"Heaven is in good hands," Cas replies, still sickeningly calm. "I'm not needed there."

That's why he chose this? Fucking _obligation?_

"It's not about being _needed_ , Cas!" Dean's shouting now. "We're talking about your _home._ What about your _family?_ "

For the first time Cas hesitates, a flash of uncertainty in his eyes as he flicks them first to Sam then back to Dean.

"Well..." he starts, pausing to wet his lips in a gesture so human Dean doesn't know whether to laugh, cry or punch the angel in the face. _Like the strangers that you've met. The ragged men in the ragged clothes. The silver thorn of bloody rose_. "You're both here so..." He fixes on Dean and Dean stares back, as easy and natural as always. "...so I don't see the problem."

It's like someone took a brush and whitewashed Dean's mind. He can't think. There's only this moment, nothing but him and Sam and Cas. _Now I think I know. What you tried to say to me._

"No problem, Cas," Sam says over Dean's shoulder, voice warm. Affectionate. Brotherly. "It's really good to see you."

Cas breaks his sombre vigil of Dean and quirks his lips in that delicate hint of a smile of his. Then he blinks and looks down at himself.

"Ah. Of course. I should move. To the back..."

He moves his arm from the window, reaching for the door handle.  
  
Dean moves without thinking, leaning in to grip Cas' shoulder.

"Stay the fuck where you are," he orders, but the words don't have the same sting as before.

Cas stops and sinks back into the seat, glancing at Dean in question. Dean can feel the heat of Cas' skin through the jacket and allows himself a moment to rub his thumb in a gentle circle over Cas' shoulder. He imagines the muscles beneath it, blood vessels travelling all the way to a beating, living heart. And maybe that's okay. If Cas thinks it's okay. Maybe they can do this.

Closing Heaven with an angel on this side cuts off their mojo. Completely. Them's the breaks. They'd known it from the start. But the penetrating look in Cas' eyes makes Dean wonder if the guy still has some mind reading skills because he swears Cas is looking straight into him. And from the way Cas relaxes, expression softening, lips curling in relief and something more, something _profound_ , Dean can tell Cas knows _exactly_ what he's thinking.

"Can't move with your leg like that, can you?" Dean deflects, moving his hand off and climbing inside. Hell, they've got a whole _lifetime_ ahead of them for click-flick moments. They can wait.

One of the doors opens behind them and Sam drops in without complaint. In fact, when Dean glances over his shoulder to make sure he's in okay Sam flashes Dean a smug grin, head nodding towards Cas, eyebrows flicking up. 'I know how it really is, Dean,' the gesture says. 'I know.'

Bitch.

Dean turns from him to Cas who's watching expectantly, a smile still playing about his lips.

_They would not listen, they're not listening still. Perhaps—_

With a sudden lunge Dean jerks forward and cuts off the radio.

"House rules," he announces, popping the glove box and reaching inside. After a moment or two of foraging he pulls out a cassette tape and inserts it in the player. Fuck mp3 he says. "Driver picks the music."

As the familiar chords start up Dean looks once more back at Sam, to Cas and finally to the horizon. He starts the ignition, puts his hands on the wheel, and smiles.

 

~ **fin** ~


End file.
